Dark Fate
by Rinusagitora
Summary: Oneshot. KenUno, minor implied IshiNemu. Death!AU. Rated T for body horror, death, and injury. /After a failed attempt on his life, he's given two choices. Either way, he got the short end of the stick./


Secret Santa gift for plaguedoctor3 on tumblr. Honestly this is my first time writing KenUno so I'm a little nervous...

* * *

He was assaulted with ice-cold air when he opened his eyes that day. And it was odd, he thought, he was never cold, even with his threadbare pajamas and linens kicked down to the foot of his bed. He could've stood in a speedo in the middle of the blizzard and been perfectly fine.

But he disregarded it. It wasn't like it was a hindrance, it was just bizarre, and a little bit of a nuisance when he shivered as he brushed his teeth. He hardly felt his fingers, and they were cotton-white from the restricted blood flow to his capillaries. At least, he was pretty sure they were called capillaries, that was what Yachiru's babysitter called those little blood vessels— Nemu was a premed student, babysat to pay for her books. Yachiru loved her as far as he was concerned, and her commission was cheaper than a daycare's so he didn't dislike her.

Though he did wish, then, that he was a better cook, cereal didn't warm the chill that pinched his extremities. Even Yachiru thought he was cold, scampered away with a high-pitched whine when she tried to hug him.

He'd warm up at work, he thought. It _was_ the first week of snowfall, and he just turned forty a few days prior. He was old of _course_ he deteriorated.

"I'm off to school, Daddy. Be safe." Yachiru chirped at the door, and he watched as she skipped out to wait on the curb for her bus. His gaze caught the pencil marks beside the moulding, when Yachiru was in grade school and he and her mother measured her growth once every month– except on the days when she insisted she be measured every five minutes because she was _sure_ she had grown some– and he sighed quietly then. She'd grown up so fast, he thought, already an eighth grader. He really was old, he thought, if she was almost fourteen. He just wished he'd married a woman who would've given a shit about her growth spurts, unlike his ex wife.

He shrugged on a coat and laced up his boots then, made sure his trousers were snug and his laces tight because he didn't want to stop every five minutes to fix his pants.

He worked construction for the city, their project then to build a clock tower in the plaza in the middle of metropolitan Karakura. Since the first snowfall, work had significantly slowed down, the day prior his entire shift was spent to put tarps over the frame, he wasn't sure what was bound for him that day after the windstorm they had the other night. He didn't want to think about it then.

He turned the key in the ignition, and his rustbucket sputtered to life. He pulled out of the drive, struggled in the icy gutter with his near bald tires– he reminded himself to change them that weekend– and waved at Yachiru as he rode by her stop. It was a long commute, over an hour. When he was younger, he listened to Nirvana to keep himself awake it bored him so much. By then, he'd long settled on talk shows. He blamed old age. He mostly listened to Shunsui Kyoraku on 86.3 HMI, who mostly discussed current events; like the war in the middle east and the results of the recent presidential elections with the republican party's victory. As an avid democrat, there'd been some spitfire comments from Shunsui which either made him want to call in himself and flame the new president with him or turn off the radio, it normally depended on how much coffee was in his system. Then, however, there wasn't a word about the elections. No, school shootings were always front-page news, and after another one in a New Jersey middle school, Shunsui no less than raged about the lack of gun control in America. And he had to agree. He didn't want to think what he'd do if Yachiru was killed in one of those situations, he wasn't sure he could've went on.

Work wasn't a reprieve. It was a job, what he had to do to support himself and his daughter. And it did, outside of child support payments from his ex wife which she at least had the decency to pay regularly, he normally used those to pay for Yachiru's school expenses. Woman hadn't bothered to call for months though, hadn't visited their daughter in longer. It upset him as much as it relieved him, and it was strange how he felt so differently about it. He wasn't the biggest fan of his ex wife, but Yachiru still very much loved her, and it upset him when he saw how sad she was after she hadn't seen her mother in some time.

As he'd thought, the recent windstorm had blown off several tarps and damaged some of the frame, but it could've been fixed and they still could've made some progress, which was a relief.

He took a late lunch break, like he always did, so he could talk to Yachiru after her school day ended. He always made sure that she had all her homework done and that he knew every last detail of her day because that was what _good_ fathers did, and he damn well wasn't his father. No, he wasn't a drunken deadbeat, he took care of Yachiru with everything he could, and if she said he was great father then he was. Nemu, too, far more motherly than himself said in her complete honesty, at least he hoped, that he did a fine job.

So with lunch uneventful outside of Yachiru's stories of her misadventures– the highlights of her day were the A she scored on her pre-algebra exam, and the girl she liked had complimented her hair that day–, he returned to work.

There was a loud creak then, the _scream_ of metal-on-metal, and he whipped around to find a good section of the frame topple towards him. It felt like roots sprouted from the ground and anchored his legs down, he was heavy with the realization of his death impended. Yachiru would've cried at his funeral…

It seemed to knock him back to his senses then, and he rolled out of the way just as a steel beam slammed down where he formally stood. He rolled to his feet, and he lost his balance as his toe hooked under a pile of pipes, and he fell forward–

And he landed on an erected pipe, and it gouged his eye. He _screamed_ as agony coursed through his frozen body and shredded him to pitiful, mangled pile of meat and pain. He was pulled up, and he shrieked incoherently, pressed his hands to his eye as blood gushed from the wound, and he blacked out moments later.

* * *

His alarm beeped in the background; rhythmic, sharp, _inane_. He groaned and blindly reached to shut if off, only he couldn't feel anything outside of empty air, so peeled his eyes open and blinked to clear his blurry 's pink bob came into focus then, and he wondered why she was up so early as he watched her as she grinned– normally she woke up after he finished his shower so she had the bathroom to herself–, but nonetheless he smiled as she dove to hug him.

"Hey there," he rasped as he wrapped his arm around her tiny self. "What're you up for? Do you need me to give you a ride to school early?"

"Daddy, your eye," she squeaked.

He frowned and reached up with his free hand, saw that his arm was stuck with an IV, and his memory flooded back to him. The beeps weren't his alarm, it was a heartrate monitor off to his side, softer then since he didn't focus on it, and he wasn't in his room, he was in a drab, virtually colorless unit in the ICU. He'd fallen on a pipe, he recalled, landed on it after he was nearly crushed at work. He gingerly touched his brow then and felt the cotton pad taped over his eye, and he hummed indifferently. He was too drugged to care about it much, and rubbed his daughter's back. "Where's Nemu? Did she leave you here?" He inquired, and Yachiru shook her head.

"No, she's talking to her roommate downstairs. She's been with me the entire time." She replied, and he smiled to himself. He was sure Nemu was an angel sent from Heaven, if she'd stayed with his daughter as long as she had with her classes early in the morning. He reminded himself to tip her at least hundred dollars as soon as he could've because she deserved it.

"Stop your cryin' now. 'm perfectly fine." He cooed, to which Yachiru shook her head.

"No, you're not fine. You lost your eye. The doctor said you almost died."

"It's all good. I'm still alive. I'll just be a pirate, eyepatch 'n all."

"But I don't want you to be a pirate." She sat up and wiped her eyes.

"But I want to be. I'll even grow a beard and braid it like one. Arrr,"

"Daddy no,"

"Daddy yes,"

There was movement from the corner of his vision that drew his attention then, a quick swipe near the doorway, and he turned his head to it. There was a mass that stood there– ivory that peeked through sheets of shadow in an ambiguous, almost humanoid but not quite shape. He frowned.

"Yachiru, do you see that?" He inquired. "The thing in the doorway?"

She looked, and he watched as she slowly blinked before she turned back to him. "You're hallucinating. I heard from my gym teacher that some medications can cause hallucinations." She responded. "Try to ignore it."

He frowned deeply before he turned his gaze away, and then he grinned widely at his daughter. "I love you lots 'n lots, honey." He said.

She giggled.

"You're high as a kite."

"Believe me, I know."

Nemu returned then, walked through the humanoid hallucination in the door, and she gathered her personal effects from the armchair in the corner before she addressed him. "Glad to see you're awake, sir." She remarked hurriedly as she pushed her braid that had fallen before her onto her back. "As much as I'd love to stay, Yachiru has school tomorrow, as do I, so we need to get some rest."

"But I'll be alone at home." Yachiru mumbled solemnly.

"You'll be sleeping at my place after we pack you a bag for the next few days. Uryuu and I have no qualms about you staying with us until Mister Zaraki is discharged." Nemu retorted as she pulled her tote over her shoulders, and she turned to him then. "As long as it's fine with you, sir."

"Of course." He responded. "Could you bring her here tomorrow after she's finished with her homework?"

"Of course, sir. Have a good night. Please get plenty of rest."

Yachiru climbed off the bed and ran over to Nemu, and she waved at him as they left through the humanoid hallucination in the door. He was tired, he thought then, he was sure the medication made him drowsy. So he closed his eye and drifted back into blackness.

* * *

His eye flung open. He _froze_ like he was winter incarnate, trembled under the linens like he'd been thrown in a tub of ice water, yet he stilled moments later as alarm washed over him.

They– he wasn't sure exactly who or what _they_ were– loomed over him like the gnarled branches of naked tree, and chilly mist curled off them like his breath in a freezer. Their eyes were shriveled marbles behind full lashes, and slime rolled off them like magma– only he was sure it was blood from the rankness in the air–, and sable hair shrouded their ivory skin like a lengthy shawl.

They rest their fist beside his head as sat beside him on the hospital mattress, and long, knobby fingers emerged from their shadowy locks and brushed along his cheek as slime oozed over him.

"You won't escape me this time." The being murmured as they leaned close, their lips pulled into wide sneer, and rotted laniary jutted out from their yellow gums, and he shivered.

"Escape?" He repeated weakly, and he groaned and rubbed his eyes. It it was a hallucination, he reminded himself, it would've gone away if he slept.

He felt their hands around his neck then, compressed his windpipe and smothered his gasp. He choked, dug his nails into their wrists as he thrashed, though his struggle didn't phase them in the least with their inhuman strength. His vision tunneled and he grew weaker and weaker, and a shrill _beep_ echoed through the vestiges of his conscious until darkness consumed him in its limbo.

He gasped for air then, arched his back as electricity coursed through him, and he registered a collective sigh of relief after he relaxed. His half-lidded gaze settled on a white coat, and he reached out to it until his arm was gently placed back at his side.

"Mister Zaraki, please lie still." He heard. "We just finished fibrillating you, you should be sore for awhile. Please rest while we call your family."

He _was_ absolutely exhausted, he thought. It was fairly late when Yachiru and Nemu left and he was sure he hadn't slept more than a few hours after they'd gone home.

"Tell Nemu not to mention anything to my daughter until after school. Yachiru shouldn't have any distractions." He mumbled.

"Of course. Now please rest."

* * *

"Wake up,"

His eye opened, and he sat up as he breathed, groggily looked around the room before his gaze came the woman at the foot of his bed. He frowned as he massaged his sore neck. She was beautiful, he thought; youthful, her inky hair braided over her shoulder–braids seemed popular among women, he vaguely thought–, and she was pale as the moon. She was dressed in a black gown, plain outside of the mesh over her collar, and silk gloves covered her long hands. Under normal circumstances he would've been delighted to have a woman as beautiful as she visit him, but it wasn't a normal circumstance and he wasn't in the mood for the company of pretty women.

"Who're you?" He croaked.

"Death," she responded frankly, and he raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "But you may call me Retsu."

"Is this another hallucination?" He groaned. "This is another hallucination. Nurse!"

A uniformed man came in, wiped his hands on his scrubs as he strided over to him. "Yes? What can I do for you?"

"Take this out of me. I'm fine without it." He held up his arm with the IV.

"Are you sure sir?" The nurse asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah,"

"Alright then," his nursed pushed his arm to the mattress before he retrieved a gauze pad and bandages. He averted his eyes, stared straight ahead at Retsu, and she stared back with coal-black eyes and a faint smile, so smug it grated on his nerves.

"Your friend is either tolerant or masochistic, ma'am." The nurse commented to her. "If he has any problems, please call for somebody."

"Thanks, have a good day, dear." She said, and her plum lips spread into a smile. His nurse left then, and her smile fell as her black gaze settled on him. "Need anymore convincing?"

He pursed his lips. "Okay, you may be _real,_ but I don't believe you're 'Death' or any of that bullsh-"

He was silenced as the room's temperature plummeted until the hair on his arms stood on end, and he swallowed a thick lump in his throat as icy air billowed off her.

"Okay, nevermind, I'm a believer." He grunted, and the room warmed again. He sighed through his nose before he adjusted his hips over the mattress. "Are you here for my soul or something?" He asked.

She sighed in disappointment, and she walked to a chair and sat neatly in it. "Originally. Unfortunately, the doctors botched my attempts of killing you. Since the advent of modern medicine failed reapings have been more and more frequent. Once a reaper fails a reaping, that soul can't be attempted on again. So now you're stuck, basically in a limbo between a spirit and human. You're like me now, a reaper."

He blinked slowly. He hardly felt different, he thought. "I'm… I don't understand." He furrowed his brow. "I don't feel anything wrong."

"You won't _feel_ anything until you're out of your body. Which takes practice. Don't ask me how any of this works, none of us are entirely sure how or why, but you won't age from now on, and it will be difficult to injure you, nearly impossible to die. Not even old age, the most inevitable of deaths, will you be subjectable to." She explained bitterly. "Shameful, is what this is. I've never been so inept since my first reapings."

He felt dread ripple through him, as cold as Retsu made the air hardly moments go. He would live forever, damn near close to it at least. It meant that he'd live longer than Yachiru, his _precious_ Yachiru, and he'd watch her die at some point.

His heart felt heavy then, pressed down on his diaphragm and he couldn't breathe because of it.

"You've got two choices now, Kenny." She purred as she pointed at him with her thumb and index finger pinched together. "You come with me, and Yachiru lives a normal life. You stay, and you watch her die." She stood then, pulled her hat off the table and placed it atop her crown. "I'll come back later tonight for your final decision. I hope you'll do what's best for your daughter."

He watched as she sauntered out, as the train of her gown swept the floor and her heels clacked on the tile before she disappeared, and he looked down at his hands.

He needed a nap.

* * *

"Daddy?"

Roused from slumber yet again, he cracked his eye open, and he smiled to himself as he caught his daughter's pink head. He pulled her close, ignored the headache that throbbed behind his orbitals and pet her hair as she returned his gesture.

"Hey there, how was school?"

"It was okay, I guess. I was too worried about you to concentrate though."

"Did you get your homework done at least?"

"Nemu wouldn't bring me here until it was." She replied, and he watched her pout. "She's downstairs getting dinner, by the way. I told her you'd want a big cheeseburger."

He chuckled then. "You know me so well."

"Damn straight."

"Watch your language."

"Make me. I'll wipe the floor with your sorry ass."

"When did my daughter become so crude?"

"It's a natural part of growing up."

"I'm sure." He rolled his eye, before he propped himself on his elbow. "Say, Yachiru,"

She sat up, smiled at him. "Yeah?"

He heaved a sigh, awkwardly scratched his jugular. "How would you feel if I said I might have to go away? Would that hurt you a lot?"

"Of course it would." She scoffed then. "You have to stay with me until I die, otherwise I won't forgive you."

"No matter what? Even if… even if something happened to me? Something that would forever change me?"

"You're talking weird." She responded, then she looked him square in his eye in complete sincerity. "But you'll always be my dad, even if you grew a second head or shrunk to half my size. I'd still love you no matter what." She grinned down at him, and the weight on his diaphragm alleviated.

He wasn't a deadbeat like his father. He didn't hit women, and he wasn't constantly drunk, and he wasn't one to abandon his child to make their way on their own through a cruel, selfish world. No, he was better than his father. He'd guide his daughter through life, be her safety net when she fell and the ice pick she'd use to climb to the highest peaks.

Nemu returned then with a tray and styrofoam boxes stacked on it. "Good evening, sir. It's nice to see you're awake." She remarked as she strode over to the table near the window. He sat up as Yachiru climbed off the bed, and he winced as his ribs pinched. His daughter brought him a box, and he set it on his thighs and opened it, sighed as the smell of cheeseburger wafted up to him.

"Remind me to pay you back, Nemu." He remarked before he dove in.

"Please don't worry about it. Just rest, sir." Nemu assured him with a soft smile.

He chuckled to himself. Nemu, he thought, was an absolute angel.

It was soon time for the two girls to leave, it was strange how two and a half hours barely felt like ten minutes, and he was again saddened to see his daughter leave, but he _dreaded_ Retsu's return.

He heard the click of her heels outside seconds after they left, and he frowned as she leaned in the doorway.

"Well?" She said as she crossed her arms.

"I'm staying." He announced. "Until Yachiru doesn't need me."

He watched her frown. "Alright then." She stood independently and sighed. "But listen here, Kenpachi, she'll eventually die, and you'll have no choice but to join myself and the other reapers in our duty, whether you like it or not."

He nodded, and she disappeared like black smoke down the hallway.

* * *

Life was abnormal after that. He was released from the hospital days later, and it was normal for a few years, until his coworkers noticed how he seemed frozen in time– how his hair was barely greyed and how his skin hardly wrinkled after his stint at the hospital. So they moved to avoid suspicion, to avoid possible rumors that could've harmed Yachiru.

In college, he was Yachiru's cousin. At her wedding, he was her brother. At her funeral, he was her son. She'd lived a full life, and he had the honor to watch the whole thing. She was his best friend and the apple of his eye.

He couldn't stand after she died, laid next to her headstone like he was in the middle of a coma. Borderline catatonic, for sure. He didn't _want_ to go on without her.

"Kenpachi," he heard, and he saw pale ankles and sleek heels, and the rain that drenched him disappeared under the shield of an umbrella. "Get up, you pitiful fool. You're a reaper, not a homeless mutt."

He lamely watched as she pulled him to his feet– she was _strong_ – and she looked him square in eye through the veil she wore. "Come, another reaper will be here soon to collect your daughter's soul, and you don't want to be here when they reap her." She said as she brushed off his suit, and she frowned then. "I suppose we'll have to buy you a new eyepatch as well, since that one is sickeningly gaudy."

"Retsu, I'm-"

"Don't speak." She pressed a finger to his lips, silenced him. "You're Death now, Kenpachi, like me. We've no room for grief. All you feel now will soon heal."

His shoulders slumped then. Perhaps it was just that he needed direction that he went with her, he was so _lonely,_ or maybe it was that he hardly cared any longer. Either way, as she turned for the entrance of the cemetery, he followed at her heels and walked into his future.


End file.
